The Fair Ones

The chalk

Ivory

Smooth

Prized by those steady hands

The board

Ebony

Dusty with erasures

Ashen like their Black skin

Bruised with insecurities

Dented with frown lines

Streaked with tears

If only the hue would ebb with a blink of their eyes

If only they could blanch the coal

If only they could wash away the soot

If only it would peel with vigorous scrubbing

The fair ones have not yet sprouted

Only the colored bloomed

But they were born with eyes closed

Closed to the truth of their existence